


help me let down my guard

by duva, fictionalcandie



Series: the superfruit queen bey collection [4]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Relationship Reveal, Rimming, Twitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:56:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9967988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duva/pseuds/duva, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalcandie/pseuds/fictionalcandie
Summary: This is the sequel towash me over until my well runs dry, which in turn is the sequel tothis don't even feel like falling. It's not required that you have read either of those first, though you'll certainly get more out of this story if you do. If you choose not to, just go into this one with the knowledge that Scott and Mitch are already in a relationship, and at one point as teenagers, Mitch had a crush on him.Title from Beyoncé's 1+1. Again, all usernames are fake and not meant to portray any real people in particular. Well, except maybe one.fictionalcandie's notes: I don't have a lot of excuses. I don't have any, in fact, I'm going to sit here with my lack of excuses and blame duva for this, it's her brainchild anyway. I'm just sorry it took so long to finish. Hopefully it's worth the wait!duva's notes: You guys. This took over a year to write. What. I hope everyone recognises themselves (*raises hand*) in this, hah. Enjoy. Bring your own holy water. Happy Monday.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to _wash me over until my well runs dry_ , which in turn is the sequel to _this don't even feel like falling_. It's not required that you have read either of those first, though you'll certainly get more out of this story if you do. If you choose not to, just go into this one with the knowledge that Scott and Mitch are already in a relationship, and at one point as teenagers, Mitch had a crush on him.
> 
> Title from Beyoncé's 1+1. Again, all usernames are fake and not meant to portray any real people in particular. Well, except maybe one. 
> 
> fictionalcandie's notes: I don't have a lot of excuses. I don't have any, in fact, I'm going to sit here with my lack of excuses and blame duva for this, it's her brainchild anyway. I'm just sorry it took so long to finish. Hopefully it's worth the wait!
> 
> duva's notes: You guys. This took over a year to write. What. I hope everyone recognises themselves (*raises hand*) in this, hah. Enjoy. Bring your own holy water. Happy Monday.

“...we’re here with Pentatonix, who’re preparing to kick off the American leg of their latest world tour,” says the interviewer, Ryan Seacrest, who couldn’t be mistaken for anybody but himself, giving the camera a slick, practiced smile. “They’ll be headlining it with material from their latest release and hitting no less than forty-seven cities.”

The camera cuts to the members of Pentatonix, Kevin and Avi perched on the arms of a couch, Kirstie on one half and Scott and Mitch on the other. They all smile at the camera. Mitch waves.

“Forty-seven,” Scott echoes the interviewer, nodding. “That’s a lot.”

“How long is that going to take?” asks Ryan Seacrest.

“Almost six months,” Kirstie says.

“Wow, six _months_. That's half a year,” says Seacrest. “I’ve gotta say, I’ve always wondered, what does that do to your social life? Is it hard, being away from your loved ones?”

“Well, that part’s not fun, no,” Mitch says, with a little smile and tilt of his chin. “The rest of it’s pretty fun, though.”

Seacrest laughs. “So, no regrets about getting back on the road? Avi, you just got engaged, what's it like leaving your brand new fiancée behind?” 

Avi replies, “Well, it's pretty tough, of course, as you said, to leave your loved ones, but we really love being together as a group and performing for all of our amazing fans in all the wonderful cities worldwide that this tour is going to hit. We’re even hitting places like Stockholm and Buenos Aires. And all of our favorite places here in the US, of course. And she gets to see some of them with me, so I really can’t complain.”

Nodding along with this and turning to the others, big plastic smile in place, Seacrest prompts, “And the rest of you, would you say it’s any different for you?”

“Nope, absolutely not,” Scott says, almost on top of Seacrest’s last couple words. Mitch immediately adds, “Not any different for us at all.”

Kirstie cuts off some kind of sound, and covers it with a smile at Seacrest. “Yeah, what they said,” she agrees.

“Not for me either. Well. I guess being the only one of us single right now, I think maybe I don’t have it quite as bad,” Kevin says. There’s a muffled noise. His eyes dart to something off-camera, and widen. “I mean, since I don’t have anyone telling me how much they miss me, or—”

“Hey, man,” Avi cuts in, with a smile that's just a bit sly, “whatever you need to tell yourself. But we all know who’s got it bad around here.”

“And it’s not us,” Kirstie agrees, the curl of her mouth sharp.

Seacrest laughs. “So it is hard, then? All the traveling?”

“It’s amazing,” Scott says. He leans forward a little, just enough to pull the attention to him, and the others let him. “I’m really looking forward to it! Getting back out on the road for the first time in a while is always an adjustment, but you know, it’s got its own charms.”

Mitch gives a theatrical but well-executed grimace. “The tour bus is _not_ one of them,” he adds.

“Seeing new cities, though,” Scott says, earnest.

“Or ones we’ve loved in the past,” Kirstie agrees. “Catching up with people, meeting new ones. It’s exciting.”

“And, oh man, the _food_ ,” says Avi, pulling a rapturous face. Seacrest laughs again. “There’s always somewhere new to try, while we’re touring.”

“So you have time, then? To eat out, when you’re on the road?” Seacrest asks, and the subject of relationships falls by the wayside. Kevin opens his mouth to contribute a few times, but before he speaks his eyes cut sideways, and he presses his lips together without anything coming out. He doesn’t say another word the whole interview.

#

**ptxstolemyheart**  
wait what WHO isn't single

 **scomicheisveryreal**  
everybody?? but? KEVIN???

 **pentaobsessed12**  
guys guys i bet Scott’s dating that new makeup guy Magnus they’re taking with them on tour

 **scotthoyingismydad**  
why would he be tho

 **luvscruffyscott**  
I mean they literally hung out once what are you basing this on

 **monkeysdonthavegrammys**  
Poor third wheeling Kevin

 **pentaobsessed12**  
@luvscruffyscott bc they’d look so cute together #scotnus

 **scomicheisveryreal**  
OMG imagine if he's finally with mitch iwould die #cryinglauging

 **monkeysdonthavegrammys**  
I volunteer to pair up with him 

**monkeysdonthavegrammys**  
I mean if he's feeling lonely 

**twerkymcslutdrop**  
@pentaobsessed12 i think #magott has a better ring to it…. #scomiche4life

 **mitchismyeverything**  
Oh god here we go again. Scott and Mitch DONT FEEL THAT WAY about eachother. That's not what they meant. I bet Scott IS seeing Magnus.

 **luvscruffyscott**  
o rly

 **twerkymcslutdrop**  
@monkeysdonthavegrammys what a sacrifice ur basically a saint ;)

 **luvscruffyscott**  
let's find out.

#

“I love Tuesday date night,” Scott says, nuzzling Mitch’s ear. “We should do it every week.”

“We do, that’s why we call it Tuesday date night.”

“Well, we should be in here every Tuesday, then,” Scott says. He waves his right hand around at the room, taking in all the candles, their wine glasses on the edge of the tub, and the jacuzzi they're sitting in, Scott leaning against the side of the tub and Mitch between his legs, leaning against him.

Mitch smothers a little laugh into their joined left hands, though he has to lift them from his chest to do so.

“Seriously, I can’t believe we’ve never used this tub before,” Scott says. He leans down and presses a kiss behind Mitch’s ear, then several more in a trail down his neck. “Why have we never?”

“Um, because our bed is in your room?” Mitch says, tilting his head to the side just enough to give Scott more room. “And the tub is in mine.”

“Well we should start making the trip,” Scott says, with several more kisses.

Mitch twists around to get a look at Scott, one eyebrow lifted a little. “I think I could be persuaded,” he says.

“Oh, you do, huh.”

“Give it a try and we’ll see,” says Mitch. Scott lifts his free hand to cradle the back of Mitch’s head and kisses him. They really should do this more often. It's the best he's felt all week, all cuddled up to Mitch, surrounded by warm water and each other.

When they break the kiss, Mitch gives a happy little hum, a couple bars of something Scott thinks he recognizes, but before he can place it, Mitch stops. He runs a hand from Scott's thigh, over his bent knee and down to his ankle. “I feel like I'm in _Pretty Woman_.”

“I think we both know that if there's a pretty woman in this tub, it's not me,” Scott murmurs, pressing another kiss to the back of Mitch's ear. Just because it's there, and he wants to, and he _can_.

“You don't need to sweet talk me, I'm already naked and in your arms,” Mitch says. There's a smile in his voice, though, and Scott hears the bashful, pleased tone despite the sassiness of his words.

And that, right there, is why Scott doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of heaping praise on Mitch. He deserves every compliment— _obviously_ —but the glow he gets when Scott does it is, is, it’s beyond words.

“What if I want to sweet talk you,” Scott murmurs. “You’re lovely, you’re beautiful.”

“Well, I’m not going to _argue_ , or anything,” Mitch says, half-laughing.

“I could just stare at you forever always, I want to—to sing about the line of your jaw, the curve of your ears, that little arch of your eyebrows—”  Scott says, dropping kisses on every one of those spots he can reach as he goes. “You’re _so pretty_ , baby.” He kisses the back of Mitch’s neck all soft, and tells him, “You’re perfect.”

“Oh, please.”

“You _are_. Everything about you. Were you not just listening?”

“There was something about my ears,” Mitch says.

“Yes. Your cute, perfect little ears,” Scott agrees. He catches the shell of Mitch’s ears in his teeth and bites it, just gently, then rubs his nose down it. “And this spot here,” the skin behind his ear, where Scott’s already dropped so many kisses tonight that he’s lost count, and leaves another one anyway, “which is _perfect_ to kiss.”

Mitch tilts his head again to give Scott a better angle. “Yes, you do seem to like to.”

Scott hums against his skin. He slides his hand over from Mitch’s hip—he almost doesn’t want to leave the soft tender place along Mitch’s hipbone that he’s been stroking with his thumb. It’s worth it, though, to cup Mitch’s cock in his palm, to feel the way Mitch arches into it, the hum deep in his chest. Mitch is half hard before Scott’s even got a hand on him, not surprising with the warm water and all the places their skin is touching, and he starts rising the rest of the way when Scott curls his fingers.

“And _this_ is perfect, too, I swear,” Scott adds. He gives Mitch a languid little pull, once from root to head and back down, and leaves his hand there, just holding.

“Now you’re being gross and sappy on purpose,” Mitch complains, cheeks and neck ears all pink, and it’s not just from the heat of the water. He bites his lip for a second, pushes his hips up again until Scott gives him another slow, lazy stroke. Then, “You’re pretty nice to look at, too.”

“That's all I get? Only pretty nice?”

“I’ll show you how nice,” Mitch murmurs, and leans back and kisses him.

After a couple of minutes of slow, lazy kisses, Mitch pulls his hand out of Scott's and reaches up to wrap an arm around his shoulders. The angle’s not great, so Scott lets go of Mitch’s dick and catches him by his waist and thigh, hoists him up and around so that he can sit across Scott’s thighs instead of between them. Mitch’s arm ends up draped around Scott’s neck, which is just about perfect. Scott has a theory that his neck was made to fit in the bend of Mitch’s elbow.

Mitch sets his teeth in Scott’s bottom lip and strokes his free hand down Scott’s chest. He can't seem to hold it still, after that. It keeps drifting down under the water to grope Scott’s legs, the parts of them he’s not sitting on.

“Are you looking for something?” Scott asks, grinning. 

“You have ridiculously long legs,” Mitch says, apparently by way of defense. “Those skinnies you wore today made them look _obscene_. It was driving me crazy not to put my hands all over them.”

“I thought you were showing me how you can be nice.”

“This is nice. I'm telling you about how I love your legs, pay attention.”

“Oh, I’m definitely listening,” Scott says.

Mitch looks at him a long moment. Then he raises an eyebrow, slides off Scott’s lap, and says, “Get out of the tub.”

“What?” Scott blurts.

“Go on, up on the ledge,” Mitch insists.

“Why am I—”

“You’ll thank me later.”

Scott hesitates another couple of seconds, then slides up out of the water. He perches on the little ledge where the edge of the built in tub meets the wall.

“Good, good. Like I was saying, your legs are magnificent.” Mitch grins, turning toward Scott and coming up on his knees. He puts his hand on Scott’s foot, still submerged in the water, and runs one finger up the inside of his ankle, toward his knee. “And if we’re talking about perfect dicks…”

Scott licks his lips, and his eyes drop to Mitch's mouth. He has a suspicion he knows where this is going. “Oh yeah?”

Mitch starts to grin as his hand continues to travel north. “Oh, _yeah_ …”

Scott inhales sharply when Mitch’s fingers close around his cock. 

“Just remember, I don’t do this very often,” Mitch says, even as he lowers his head.

“I know,” Scott assures him. He curls his hand against the lip of the tub to remind himself _not_ to reach for Mitch and just drag his head down. He knows better, he would _never_ , not really, but it’s, it’s been a while. He makes himself think about the warm water splashing around his shins, the bubbles tickling his knees, and not about threading his fingers in Mitch’s hair and holding him still.

Mitch starts slow, like he always does, just licks around the crown a lot, sweeps the flat of his tongue over the head. He drags his head down once or twice and licks from the bottom all the way up. Keeps his tongue working around the crown. It’s almost like he’s just playing with Scott, except every so often he gives one good, solid stroke with the hand he’s got wrapped around the base. The fourth or fifth time he does this, Scott tips his head back to lean against the wall, breath coming faster, only to jerk it right back up again. He can’t—he can’t see Mitch that way, and he _has_ to see Mitch right now. Just thinking about not watching this hurts his _soul_.

A minute later, he’s glad of the effort because it means he’s watching when Mitch wraps his lips around just the head, starts sliding it slowly in and out of his mouth while he curls both hands around the rest of Scott’s length and works it that way. He doesn’t go down very far; Scott can actually feel it every time Mitch takes him in just a little too deep and hits his gag reflex. It’s _maddening_ , Scott’s thighs flex and his toes curl with the effort it takes to not just tilt up his hips and thrust into Mitch’s mouth.

Just when Scott starts to think this will be over way too soon, Mitch pulls almost all the way off and starts mouthing at the head, almost like he’s just kissing it, leaving his lips all slick and smeared with precum. Scott maybe whimpers a little, he’s not proud, he can admit it. Mitch’s just so, he _just—damn_.

Scott’s abs are tensing and his dick flexing, completely outside his control. “Fuck,” he groans, “just when I think your lips can’t look any better.”

Mitch pulls the rest of the way off and chuckles, all low and deep and not like his usual high, bright laugh. He looks _smug_ , so pleased with himself, even when the way he’s nodding at Scott’s words has Scott dragging over his face, leaving a slick trail up one cheek. 

“Mitch,” Scott gasps, letting himself peel one hand off the tub to rest lightly on the damp skin at the nape of Mitch’s neck. He has to touch Mitch, he has to. “I—I want—”

Mitch tilts his head up and meets Scott’s eyes just long enough to raise his eyebrows.

“Please can I come on your face oh god can I,” Scott blurts out all in a rush.

Mitch’s eyes widen just a little bit. He sits back on his heels looking up at Scott for a couple of seconds that take _forever_. Just when Scott thinks he can’t stand Mitch just looking at him anymore, he licks his lips. “Yeah,” he says, his voice a croak.

“Oh, god,” Scott says.

Mitch puts his mouth back on Scott and starts sucking in earnest again.

“It’s—not going to take long,” Scott warns.

A tightening of Mitch’s fingers is the only response he gets.

It really isn’t very long before Scott feels that telltale heat, the last coiling tightness in his belly that means he’s _there_. “Mitch, I’m gonna, Mitch, Mitchy—”

Mitch pulls his mouth off, tips up his chin and closes his eyes, hand still working Scott’s length through his orgasm. He even moans a little when the first stripe hits his skin, goes across his cheek. Some gets on his mouth, and his lips part, just a breath, like he almost wants to lick his lips. The next pulse lands a bit higher, leaving a little clinging to his long, dark lashes.

It’s one of the prettiest, nastiest things Scott’s ever seen. He’s obviously the luckiest person on the entire planet.

“Oh god, oh my god, baby,” Scott says once he thinks he’s got most of his brain cells back, trying to wave a grateful hand in Mitch’s direction, maybe cup his cheek or something, but winds up flapping at him limply and accidentally flicking bubbles at him. “That was— _thank_ you. So good.”

“I’m _very_ nice,” Mitch says, putting his hands on Scott’s arms and pulling Scott back into the tub.

Scott ignores the water they just splashed over the side of the tub, gets Mitch’s face in his hands and drags him in for a long, deep kiss. “You are,” he agrees, against Mitch’s flushed, filthy mouth, his voice still a little bit shaky.

Mitch hums a noise of agreement. “Now, I think you should return the favor.”

#

**itsnotguyliner**  
Look at this handsome fella! @magnusmagnummakeup

 **magnusmagnummakeup**  
@itsnotguyliner I think the roses really make the picture

 **itsnotguyliner**  
A whole year 2gether. Its gone so fast! Feels like we met just yesterday. U R the best thing to ever happen to me. @magnusmagnummakeup

 **magnusmagnummakeup**  
@itsnotguyliner holdin hands over a fancy dinner is the best #anniversary #dinnerout

 **itsnotguyliner**  
Dinner and a romantic ride through the city for my main man. @magnusmagnummakeup love u more every day #anniversary #oneyear

 **magnusmagnummakeup**  
@itsnotguyliner love you more!! #anniversary #oneyear #whattacatch

 **magnusmagnummakeup**  
@itsnotguyliner Happy anniversary, baby!! #oneyear #anniversary #selfiekiss

#

**luvscruffyscott**  
@mitchieismyeverything @itsnotguyliner @magnusmagnummakeup so much for THAT theory

 **scotthoyingismydad**  
@luvscruffyscott you know, we COULD totally be misunderstanding things

 **mitchieismyeverything**  
@luvscruffyscott @scotthoyingsmydad Maybe Kevin just got it wrong

 **scomicheisveryreal**  
ooooooor maybe scott and mitch are dating.

 **mitchieismyeverything**  
@scomicheisveryreal They don't. Feel that way. About. Each other.

 **scomicheisveryreal**  
@mitchieismyeverything ^^^ i can't hear you over the sound of my handle being truuuue

 **scomicheisveryreal**  
scott and mitch sitting in a tree

 **scomicheisveryreal**  
@scomicheisveryreal k i s s i n g KISSING

 **luvscruffyscott**  
@scomicheisveryreal omg marsha stop baiting her

 **mitchieismyeverything**  
@scomicheisveryreal Never. Gonna. Happen.

 **scomicheisveryreal**  
@mitchieismyeverything sure jan. sure

#

Scott. Won’t. Fuck. Him.

Scott _should_ be fucking him, he damn sure must _want_ to be fucking him, he’s definitely hard enough for it. Scott just... _won’t_.

Mitch tries to use the way he’s got his knees hooked around Scott’s hips, with his ankles crossed over each other in the small of Scott’s back, to pull him in tighter. Puts his hands on Scott’s shoulders and levers himself up to bite at the outer edge of Scott’s pectoral. He isn’t feeling like being nice, and he doesn’t try to be gentle.

Scott moans, and Scott twists his body down and in so he can kiss Mitch, can lick into his mouth and suck on his tongue, but Scott doesn’t reach for a condom, doesn’t even put his fingers back in him. Mitch bites Scott again, worries the flesh over Scott’s ribs between his teeth until it’s sure to bruise, drags his nails from Scott’s shoulders down his spine. Scott says Mitch’s name like it’s a holy word, but he still doesn’t fuck him.

They've just spent five days doing press in preparation for their upcoming tour, and they have the whole day off and they’ve mutually agreed to spend it in bed—though if Mitch had known Scott wasn't actually planning to _give it to him_ , he might not've—well. Okay, he still would've wanted to be exactly here, but he wouldn't’ve bothered fingering himself open in the shower he took earlier while Scott was out getting wine so that this could go faster. _Speed_ doesn't seem to be a concept with which Scott is familiar, today.

“ _C’mon_ ,” Mitch says, trying again to get Scott _moving_.

“I gotchu,” Scott says right away, kissing him again, but it’s clearly a lie because he still doesn’t do anything useful. Instead, he pulls one of Mitch’s legs away from his waist, fits his palm to the back of Mitch’s leg under his knee and pushes it up toward his chest. So he can see better, has more room to work, except he’s not actually _working_.

Scott keeps teasing Mitch with the tip of his dick, pushing just enough for Mitch to think that this is it, this time he’s _going to_ —only to let up at the last second, pulling back instead of putting it in and fucking him properly, like it’s a game. Like he doesn’t want it just as much as Mitch does.

And it is _maddening_ , because Scott was _so close_ to fucking him and if he had a condom on already maybe Mitch would only need a split second opportunity and the right leverage—but Scott doesn’t, Scott’s still bare, and he’s not doing anything to _help_ , he’s being _actively unhelpful_. It’s horrible and awful, _he’s_ horrible, if Mitch could actually think or move or do anything right now he’d be making Scott _pay_ for this.

The worst part of it, worse than Scott doing this on purpose, is knowing that—that Mitch _could_ do something about it, couldn’t he. You don’t actually need a condom to have sex, it’s not a requirement, not if you’re—And it’s not like it’d even be all that reckless, really. He knows this isn't technically something they've agreed on, but they both came back clean the last time they tested and they haven't been with anyone else since, and to be _really_ certain they should test again but it’s _almost_ certain, and. And it would mean Mitch was that much closer to getting fucked right now. If it were anyone else he'd never risk it but it's _Scott_.

“Oh my god, what are you _waiting_ for,” Mitch demands, finally not even on the edge of desperate any more, but all the way there, absolutely surrounded by desperate.

Scott tries to grin down at him all innocent, but it’s ruined by the burning unholy light in his eyes, the way they can't seem to stop going heavy-lidded. “I dunno what you're talking about,” he says, and rocks his hips again just the littlest bit.

Mitch gasps, trying to arch his hips up into the contact, just to see if he _can_ get Scott in him, even just a little but Scott pulls back too soon, still grinning. Mitch gives a wordless frustrated little wail, and flexes his legs trying to pull Scott back in, but he doesn't budge. Mitch could _hit_ him.

“Dammit, don't you _want_ to fuck me,” Mitch asks, raking the nails of his left hand down Scott’s shoulder and back again, harder than before.

“Oh, yeah, fuck. Yeah I do,” Scott says, head dropping forward as he bends his back into Mitch’s hands, the motion sensing his cock sliding hot and slippery across Mitch’s hole, over his perineum, bumping his balls.

Mitch makes another frustrated noise before he can stop himself.

“If you don't get on with it, I'm gonna fuck _you_ ,” he threatens, hoping it'll get Scott moving.

It does, but not the way Mitch was hoping. Scott’s eyes go wide, and he freezes. A second later he heaves himself up on his arms, rears back so he's practically sitting on his heels and says, in the kind of breathless destroyed voice that would make somebody who didn't know better think he'd just been sucking cock for days, “Uh, so, _there's_ an idea.”

Mitch stares at him. Scott bites his bottom lip and looks back, slowly going red but the farthest thing from turned off.

“You'd —That's a thing you'd be into?”

“I’m into you, any way I can get you,” Scott says, “so yes.” He pauses a second, bites his lip again. “And just because I prefer it on top doesn’t mean I don’t like it from the other end every now and then.”

Mitch licks his lips and keeps staring, trying to come up with something to say from the great screaming blank of hotness that is his mind. Like, Mitch knew that, okay, of course he did, he knows everything when it comes to Scott, he just—hasn’t ever thought about it in relation to _himself_ , and that’s. That’s, um—

As he watches, Scott swallows, and his eyes dart down Mitch’s body to his cock, then back up.

“Scott,” Mitch croaks.

“Yeah?”

“I really, really need you to fuck me,” Mitch says. “Right now.”

“Right. Fuck you. Right,” says Scott, finally, finally fumbling a hand toward the nightstand and the condoms there, but for all it’s a step in the right direction he’s still not moving fast enough.

“Were you not listening? I need a good hard fucking.” Mitch’s voice is firm, his tone the one that says he means _business_. Scott huffs as he rips open the condom and puts it on. “With a happy ending.”

“I can do that,” Scott promises, twisting his hips and sliding home, and gives it to him.

#

**luvscruffyscott**  
so i guess we know y scott hasn’t worn a tank top in ages huh

 **scotthoyingismydad**  
@luvscruffyscott huh? what do u mean?

 **luvscruffyscott**  
@scotthoyingismydad you haven’t seen it??

 **luvscruffyscott**  
@scotthoyingismydad check my pinned tweet your welcome

#

“Twitter’s freaking out over you again,” Mitch says, eyes glued to his phone, as Scott comes out of the bathroom.

Scott huffs, and flops down on the bed next to Mitch. “What is it this time?”

In answer, Mitch scoots over until Scott can see the screen.

Mitch has a photo pulled up, a pap-style shot of Scott waiting in line somewhere, wearing his outfit from this morning. The tank top doesn’t do a good job of hiding all the scratches on his back that Mitch put there with his nails, and it doesn’t do a _damn_ thing to cover up the marks up high on his shoulder and chest. There are several of them visible, some of the more faded ones from last week, and fresher.

“The fans—the ones who are making sense through all the wailing,” Mitch says, smirking a little. He reaches out with his free hand and pets Scott’s shoulder, right over his latest mark, one that Scott can still feel as a hot little ache. “They’re saying it proves you’re having sex on the regular.”

“I am,” Scott points out. He wraps his arms around Mitch’s waist and tugs him a little closer. Nuzzles the side of his face. “Thought you might’ve noticed by now.”

“Yeah, but they’re saying it’s with either a steady partner or a string of hook ups with oddly similar fetishes.”

“They’ll calm down,” Scott says.

Mitch twists around so Scott can see him raise an eyebrow. “You can’t be serious.”

“Okay, so maybe they won’t.” Scott shrugs. “This is why I haven’t worn a tank top in ages.”

“Oh yeah, they definitely noticed,” Mitch says. “They’d been wondering why.”

“It’s just a tank top,” Scott whines.

“Not to them. Oh, here, this one’s my favorite,” Mitch says, and scrolls over, to another picture. This one’s from a different angle, closer up, like the person who took it was maybe standing right behind Scott in line; you can’t actually see Scott’s face but the tank top is definitely the same as in the last picture.

This one is more of the marks. Several are hickeys, but one in particular, on which the picture seems to be focused, is very distinctly a ring of teeth marks. The scratches go past it, down under the shirt.

“Your favorite, huh,” Scott mumbles, grinning wide through the blush he can feel rising on his face.

“Mmhm. It’s a good picture,” Mitch declares, and bites him again.

#

**ptxstolemyheart**  
well HELLO THERE

 **scotthoyingismydad**  
OMFG NO JUST NO GO AWAY

 **twerkymcslutdrop**  
I'm dead. You're talking to my ghost.

 **pentaobsessed12**  
what is the meaning of this sir

 **luvscruffyscott**  
Like the sleeve wasn’t bad enough

 **luvscruffyscott**  
my life omfg ifs over

#

“So, you guys have been looking...happy, lately,” Kirstie says, during a break at rehearsal. Kevin and Mitch went for coffee, and Avi’s off talking to Esther, so it's just her and Scott sitting alone out of the way.

Scott doesn't even have to ask who or what she means. “We are,” he says, smile taking over his face without him meaning it to.

There's silence for a bit. It doesn't feel uncomfortable, but the pursed look on Kirstie’s face makes him suspect she has something she wants to say. He waits and lets her work herself up to it.

“I probably shouldn’t say anything,” Kirstie starts. “But I, uh.”

Scott stares at her. “You can’t start something like that and not _finish_ it.”

Kirstie bites her lip. “I know, I know. I don't know that, I mean, if I should—”

“Just tell me already,” Scott says.

“So, I mean, obviously you know he was into you in high school,” she starts again, speaking quickly enough that this clearly isn’t her main point. Scott wants to let her get to that, he does, but on the other hand—

“What? Who was, Mitch?” Scott laughs, a little, uneasy. “No, he wasn’t, I would have kno—”

He trails off, caught on the way Kirstie is staring at him. She looks like she just stepped in something icky and isn’t sure whether to keep going, or retreat and try to wipe it off her boots.

“You mean, Mitch—Mitch _didn’t_ tell you?” she asks, a lot more careful than she was a second ago.

Scott frowns. “I don’t even know what you’re saying, so I have no idea why you think he would have.”

“I’m saying he was crazy about you, and you broke his heart,” she says.

Scott feels his eyes widen, at the same time his stomach plummets. “No I did _not_.”

“Yeah, you kinda did.”

“I think I would have known if I’d done that,” Scott says, stiffly.

“Right before he was gonna ask you out, I found out you were letting yourself be that stupid jock boy’s dirty little secret,” Kirstie counters.

“You _didn’t_ ,” Scott says, in a different, betrayed tone. “You swore you wouldn’t tell anyone that.”

“I didn’t tell him, I just warned him off,” she says, shaking her head, and giving _him_ a wounded look, which is rich, considering. “I don’t think he believed me at first, but then there was that house party those volleyball friends of yours threw, and. Well. I guess he worked it out.”

Scott’s already sunken stomach curdles. That—that actually sounds like it could have happened. He remembers that party, mostly because he remembers Mitch hardly talking to him for the week after it. He’d thought Mitch had just been embarrassed about how drunk he’d let the older guys get him.

“ _Oh_ , shit,” he breathes.

“Yeah,” Kirstie says.

“How did I not _know_ this?” Scott demands. This changes—well, it doesn’t actually change anything, does it. Sure makes him feel like that much more of an idiot, though. “ _How_ did I miss it?”

Kirstie gives his arm a comforting pat, but there’s clearly not much sympathy in it. Her mouth’s already curled up in a half smile. “It was a mystery to all of us, I promise.”

Scott gives her smile a half-hearted glare. “Why are you bringing this up _now_ ,” he asks, without bothering not to sound pouty.

“I wanted to make sure you’re not gonna break his heart,” she says. She raises one eyebrow, like she’s daring him get mad at her bluntness. “Since you’ve done it once without meaning to, and all.”

Scott opens his mouth to tell her all the ways he’s hurt and betrayed and shocked that she could even _say_ something like that to him. Then he closes it again, remembering all the apparently many ways he’s already been an idiot with Mitch. All the things he’s promised himself he’s never, ever going to repeat.

“No,” he finally says. “I’m not gonna break his heart.”

#

**luvscruffyscott**  
ok so im still not over thAT PICTURE

 **scotthoyingismydad**  
wut picture i know no picture there is no picture GO AWAY

 **ptxstolemyheart**  
@luvscruffyscott it’s my new lock screen

 **luvscruffyscott**  
ok good im not the only one

 **pentaobsessed12**  
yeah thnx for the reminder, i hadn’t almost managed to forget i saw it or anything

#

“So, Kit said something that I've been thinking about,” Scott says. He flexes his hands on Mitch’s hips, where he's sitting on the edge of their kitchen counter with Scott leaning between his legs.

“You bring this up _now_?” Mitch replies, tipping Scott’s chin up a little higher so he can better lick over Scott’s adam’s apple.

“It's sort of—relevant.”

Mitch pulls back, already raising his eyebrows. “Relevant how?”

Scott licks his lips, then he pulls back even _further_ , puts a little distance between them, and asks, “Were you really into me in high school?”

Mitch stares at him. Scott goes on looking back, his face set in curious, innocent lines. His _eyes_ are laughing, though. Mitch feels sort of gut-punched, but he’s not sure if it’s in an entirely bad way, or not.

If this had happened before he and Scott sorted everything out, before they were officially _them_ , he’s sure he would be a lot less calm about it. They _are_ together now, though, and Mitch has no doubts about Scott, whatsoever.

This conversation might embarrass him a little, but it’s not going to hurt him. Not in any way that the happy light breaking over Scott’s face won’t fix, anyway.

“I’m going hide _all of her shoes_ ,” Mitch decides. His voice doesn’t quite break, but it doesn’t come out sounding nearly as vicious as he meant it to, either.

Scott actually laughs. “No, you’re not,” he says, and _he_ sounds so stupidly fond that Mitch decides he doesn’t care that he still feels a little like somebody tried to sucker punch him. It isn’t a blow that could land, with Scott looking at him like that, anyway. “I’m glad she told me.”

“You’re the only one,” Mitch lies.

“C’mon, now we get to talk about all the fun we could have had as teenagers,” Scott says.

Mitch can’t resist poking back at him with, “What, you mean if you hadn’t been having _fun_ with that—that _jerk_?”

“Yeah, exactly like that,” Scott says. “If I’d known, I could’ve been doing _this_ , instead.”

Then he’s cupping Mitch’s face in his hands and kissing him like he means to prove something with it, like it’s everything to him.

“Tell me something dirty you thought about us in high school,” Scott says, between kisses.

“Scott,” Mitch gasps, lost in Scott’s mouth.

Like he heard it anyway, Scott slides his lips away, down Mitch’s cheek and over his jaw, forcing Mitch to tip his head back, so that when he says, “Come on, tell me,” he does it into the hollow of Mitch’s throat. A hot shiver goes down Mitch’s spine and settles low in his belly.

Well, if he’s gonna play it like _that_.

Mitch pushes Scott away a little, so he can slide down off the counter. “You were so tall, even back then,” he says. “A string bean, yeah, but _tall_. And those _shoulders_. They were the kind of thing a boy could’ve really hung onto.”

“Yeah?” Scott encourages.

“Used to think about you fucking me against a wall,” Mitch admits, dropping his voice as quiet and husky as he can, tugging Scott a little toward the nearest wall. 

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. From behind. Just, holding me there, taking what you wanted,” Mitch says. After a second, he adds, softer, “What we both wanted.”

Scott makes a noise Mitch is starting to associate with the lead-up to a really excellent fucking. “Oh, god, yeah,” he says, teeth worrying at Mitch’s neck a little.

He doesn't make any moves to suggest he's taken the hint, not even when Mitch stretches out and arches against him encouragingly.

“Maybe I wasn't clear. I said, push me against the wall and take me from behind,” Mitch says.

Scott groans. He lifts his head, but all he does is look down at Mitch’s face. “What, right now?”

“I _told_ you,” Mitch snaps, twisting his hands in Scott’s shirt. He musters a glare up at Scott through his lashes. “Turn me _around_.”

Scott scrambles to turn him around, push him back against the wall, can't hardly seem to get his legs to move fast enough. Mitch arches into it, gets Scott to press in close and tight and hold Mitch in place. Mitch squirms a hand between himself and the wall to unfasten his jeans, and Scott shoves them down to his thighs. He rucks up Mitch’s shirt, to stroke his belly and rub his nipples.

“You're doing the wrinkling thing again,” Mitch pants.

“That mean I should stop?”

Mitch huffs. “Fuck the shirt. Don’t you fucking _dare_ stop,” and he reaches up himself, gets enough of a grip on the collar that he can wrench the shirt off over his head. He throws it across the room and gets his hands braced on the wall as fast as he can.

Scott makes a noise, like somebody just slapped him across the face with the money shot from a _really hot_ porno, like he can’t believe what just happened and he _likes_ it. Then Mitch feels his hands between them, yanking open his flies. They don’t exactly get pushed down far enough to be out of the way, Mitch can feel the zipper of Scott’s jeans digging into the back of his thigh when Scott presses back in. He doesn’t care. It’s exactly what he wanted.

Except.

“Get your dick out, already,” Mitch bites out, over his shoulder, “and fucking _touch_ me.”

“Oh, god,” Scott says. He reaches around Mitch, hand going right to Mitch’s cock and getting a good, solid grip on him. His other hand shoves the elastic band of his underwear down enough to get his cock out.

“Good boy,” Mitch approves, pushing back into it.

“You’re _my_ good boy,” Scott groans, rutting a few times against Mitch’s ass, babbles something about how much he likes it. Mitch doesn’t bother listening to the words, not with Scott’s dick sliding over his hole like it is. He’s already drooling precum, slick at the tip and leaving little wet smears on the skin of Mitch’s ass with every thrust.

“You really wanted me to do it like this?” Scott asks, panting against the back of Mitch’s neck, hand a steady rhythm counterpoint to his hips. “Fuck you against a wall?”

Mitch gasps, tries to get out the obvious _yes_ , but all that he manages is a long moan. Scott echoes it, half an octave off, harmonizing perfectly. His hand speeds up.

“I used to think about you doing this to me in my room, while my family was downstairs, and we’d have to be quiet,” Mitch makes himself say. It takes effort to get all the words out in the right order, but he thinks they’ll be worth it.

“Oh, fuck,” Scott moans, like he’s picturing it, and finding it just as hot as Mitch always did.

“Though, as a teenager, I always thought you’d be a little more forceful,” Mitch adds, going for provocative but probably landing closer to whiny. Scott doesn’t say anything, just goes on with the heavy breathing in Mitch’s ear and licking and biting at his neck. It’s nice, but not what Mitch would call _helpful_.

So maybe he needs specific direction.

“Slick up,” Mitch says.

“With _what_ ,” Scott pants, “we don’t keep lube in the _kitchen_.”

“Maybe we should start.”

Scott makes a noise like he’s dying and is frankly pretty happy about it, and his hips stutter. “Is this gonna—are we gonna make this a _regular—_ ”

“Get,” Mitch demands, voice rising, “your dick wet.”

Scott hesitates. He brings his other hand up to Mitch’s face. “Lick it, then.”

“Now you’re getting it,” Mitch says, on a moan. He takes one hand away from bracing himself on the wall to grab Scott’s wrist, angling his hand so Mitch can lick it properly. Drags his tongue up Scott’s palm, along his fingers, trying to get it good and wet as fast as he can. He’s not actually sure he’s done, when Scott pulls it away and back behind Mitch, obviously reaching for himself.

“Okay, okay,” Scott says, like he wants praise for it, rubbing up against him again. “Done.”

Mitch spreads his legs a little, inviting, making room. “Now get in here.”

For a second, Scott seems to not get it. Then Mitch feels the slick head of Scott’s cock nudging against the backs of his thighs. He slips between them, sliding through to bump up against the underside of Mitch’s balls.

“You mean, like—” Scott starts to ask.

“Yes. This,” Mitch pants out, tensing his legs to squeeze his thighs around Scott. “I wanted it like this, too.”

“Yeah? Not even in you?” as he begins thrusting, slow at first and steadily building.

“I wanted you all over me.”

Scott’s gentle rocking turns into long, firm rolls of his hips, dragging the whole length of his cock back and forth. It rubs a little at Mitch’s skin, is probably going to start chafing eventually, not quite slick enough, but it’s so close to the fantasy Mitch used to have that it’s exactly what he needs right now.

“It’s so hot how you’re giving it all up to me,” Scott breathes, and licks the shell of Mitch’s ear. “How you always wanted to.”

Mitch drops his head, neck briefly too weak to hold it up, and catches sight of Scott’s feet spread wide apart on either side of his own, so he can get the right angle to fuck between Mitch’s thighs like this. Then Mitch’s eyes get caught instead on Scott’s big hand, the rapid stuttering sweep of it jerking him off in time to the motion of his hips—Mitch can’t imagine he’ll ever not find that hot, the way it looks, the way it _feels_.

Scott gasps like he’s had the same thought, or one really close to it. “I can’t believe—this shouldn’t be,” he says. “Shouldn’t be this hot, oh, god.”

“Shut up, it is,” says Mitch.

“I’m, _fuck_ , I’m close.”

Mitch thinks about saying something catty, about _already_ , but what comes out is, “Yeah. I—Me too.”

Scott comes half on Mitch’s ass, and half on his own clothes when his last thrust, mid-orgasm, is so sloppy his cock actually slips free of Mitch’s thighs. Mitch feels Scott’s come landing on his skin and shudders, imagining how it must look. He comes in Scott’s hand a few heavy thuds of his heartbeat later.

Mitch slumps against the wall, can’t not, and Scott leans on him, arms wrapped tight around Mitch’s waist, propping each other up. They stand there, panting, their breathing sounding too loud in the sudden quiet. After a bit, Scott’s arms stop just holding and he turns Mitch back around and drags him in properly, tucked up under Scott’s chin. Mitch lets them just cuddle for a few minutes, then tips his head back and pulls Scott’s face down for some disgustingly sweet, off-center kisses.

“Was that really what you imagined?” Scott asks, after a while rubbing his nose up and down over Mitch’s cheek, breath warm on his skin.

“What, both of us still half-dressed, coming against a wall when we’ve got a room with a perfectly good bed not that far away?” Mitch says. A pause. “Part of it, yeah, pretty much.”

“Oh, yeah? Only part of it?” Scott is grinning now, sly and a little dirty. “What else did teenage you want us to do?”

“Fuck, what _didn’t_ I want us to do,” Mitch says.

Scott shudders against him. A second later, he’s giggling into Mitch’s ear. “That’s why I _asked_ , Mitchy,” he says, sounding delighted, “I wanna know everything.”

“You might regret that.”

“Oh, no way,” Scott says. His face is earnest like he means it, as he promises, “I could never.”

“I wanted you to hold me down and beg you for it,” Mitch says.

Scott’s hands flex, his fingers gripping briefly tighter on Mitch’s shoulder, his waist—then sweeping down and up again on Mitch’s back with those big, broad hands. Scott says, “Yeah?” all raspy, and nothing else—but that’s more than enough, for Mitch. Scott’s body’s doing his talking for him.

“I wanted to see what you looked like when I rode you until you came,” Mitch says.

“How didn’t I know these things?” asks Scott, riding the tail end of a badly covered whimper, fitting the cups of his palms to the arch of Mitch’s hips and taking hold like he means to never let go.

There’s no point answering that. There’s nothing Mitch could say which would satisfy both of them.

“I wanted to suck you off in your car after choir practice,” Mitch says, and Scott groans. “I used to think about it the whole drive home.”

“Seriously,” Scott croaks. He sounds like the prelude to really quality sex again, but somehow worse now because he also sounds fucked out. “ _How_?”

“But most of all,” Mitch says. He leans up, presses a kiss to the edge of Scott’s mouth right by where his hand is cupping Scott’s cheek, then another one, so gently it’s practically reverential, to Scott’s lips. He doesn’t move away after, stays in close and keeps his mouth just there. “Most of all I just wanted to be allowed to kiss you,” he finishes, his voice very soft. There’s a moment of silence.

Mitch’s heart is going double-speed, his chest tight with with all the panic he _should_ be feeling after letting out a secret kept as tightly and as long as this one. These are things he’s been promising himself for years that he would never say. Not to anyone, but most importantly not to _Scott_.

It’s hard for the panic to get any traction, though, when Mitch is being stared in the face with the way Scott starts to just melt after those initial seconds of silence, his face going all gooey.

“You’re allowed,” Scott breathes. He pulls away enough to scatter kisses across Mitch’s face; his lips, his eyebrow, both his cheeks, the tip of his nose. “Oh my god, Mitchy, yes, you’re allowed. You’re always allowed.”

“I know,” Mitch says, returning Scott’s kisses with one to the end of his chin. And then he can’t take the heaviness of the moment, embarrassed by his own confession despite knowing he doesn’t have to be _afraid_ of it anymore. He musters a smirk, and adds, “Well, Esther might disagree, if there are fans with cameras around.”

“Esther’s not the boss of us,” Scott says.

“She kind of is, sometimes.”

Scott makes a face, disapproval but not actual disagreement. “Yeah, well,” he mutters, then frowns. After another moment, his expression starts to shift again, going thoughtful.

Mitch eyes him. “What?”

“I think we should start to tell people.”

“Tell them what, exactly?”

“That we’re _together_ ,” Scott says.

“All of the really important people know already,” Mitch points out, even as something flutters deep in his chest.

“Maybe it’s time to tell everyone else, too.” And, at whatever is on Mitch’s face, Scott hurries to add, “Not _everything_ , if you’re not ready. Maybe just—just that neither of us is on the market anymore?”

“Mm, no, I’m ready,” Mitch says. They’ve practically done as much already, thanks to Kevin. “Maybe just—baby steps.”

“Baby steps,” Scott agrees. “We can totally do baby steps.”

#

“My name is flamin’ hot Cheeto.”

“And mine is pretzel bite.”

“And together, you can never have just one of us.”

#

**scotthoyingismydad**  
well apparently u CAN...just date already!! idiots

 **ptxstolemyheart**  
@scotthoyingismydad preach

 **mitchieismyeverything**  
Oh, please.

#

“My weekly obsession is my boyfriend,” Mitch says, smiling, with a coy look up at the camera through his lashes.

Scott’s eyes stay on Mitch, as his smile stretches wider still. “My weekly obsession is _my_ boyfriend.”

#

**pentaobsessed12**  
wait seriously? THAT’s how they're doing this??

 **pentaobsessed12**  
they WOULD tho wouldn't they. ugh

 **scomicheisveryreal**  
@pentaobsessed12 but wHYYYY does he look at mitchie like that when he says it??

#

“Yes, that’s right, we are both taken,” Mitch says.

“The internet was right,” Scott says.

“For once.”

#

**ptxstolemyheart**  
omggggg no wonder they've looked so haaaaaaappeeeeeeee lately, they're in LOVE

 **mitchieismyeverything**  
but not with each other, don't get excited

 **scomicheisveryreal**  
@mitchieismyeverything do you just sit around WAITING for chances to harsh ppl’s happy? chill already.

 **mitchieismyeverything**  
I'm just remminding people of the facts, I'm not being mean

 **scotthoyingismydad**  
ur being a LIL mean

#

“Scott! Stop it, come on. We’re in the _dressing room_. We _just_ finished rehearsal, the place is still crawling with crew, anybody could come in.”

“I’m not trying to start anything,” Scott promises, pulling Mitch back in and leaning down to kiss his neck again. “I just want to make out with you a bit.”

“Dressing room,” Mitch repeats, but this time he tips his chin up.

“Which is why we’re only making out,” Scott promises.

Mitch wavers. They shouldn’t, they really shouldn’t, kissing Scott never stays just kissing, hasn’t since those first few weeks stuck on a bus finishing up their last tour. It’s not a good idea, he knows that—but oh, he _wants_.

“Okay,” he allows, “only making out.”

Scott’s mouth is hot and wet and his tongue is distracting, as is the way he starts panting after a little while. Mitch gets a little breathless himself, kind of forgets that they’re in a dressing room. He doesn’t do anything to stop it when Scott rucks Mitch’s shirt up to slide his huge warm hands over skin.

“I love touching you,” Scott murmurs, nails of his thumbs catching as he drags them over Mitch’s nipples. “Can’t get enough of it, ever.”

“Love you touching me,” Mitch agrees, hands fisted in the back of Scott’s shirt. From there it just seems to make sense to pull it off, and after Scott yanks _Mitch’s_ over his head, it’s perfectly natural for him to lay down on the couch, pull Scott down on top of him. For all he was the one to start talking about _just kissing_ , Scott goes along without a word.

Well, if he’s not gonna worry about it, neither is Mitch. And he doesn’t, not at all, not even when Scott fumbles at Mitch’s pants until he’s got them open. Mitch returns the favor, pushes Scott’s down until he can grope Scott’s ass, pull him in tight so they can rut against each other.

Then, Mitch’s fingertips slip down between Scott’s cheeks, into his crack and not _quite_ over his hole. It wasn’t on purpose, he swears, and he means to move them away again, but— _That_ was the noise Scott usually makes as he is sliding into Mitch.

Mitch hesitates. He sweeps the pads of his fingers in a little circle, pressing just a tiny bit harder, and Scott makes it again. Definitely not Mitch’s imagination, then.

“You like that?” Mitch asks, to be sure.

“You should put ‘em in me,” Scott blurts.

Mitch goes still, his hand not moving except to squeeze, once, his fingers still flirting with Scott’s hole. “Oh, yeah?” he asks. “I should?”

“Yeah, c’mon. Finger me, Mitch,” Scott breathes. “I want you to.”

“Okay,” Mitch says. “But you gotta—” he lifts his hand to Scott’s mouth, and loses the rest of his sentence when Scott helpfully turns his head and takes in Mitch’s fingers. He sucks them like it was his idea in the first place, licking over and between them. He’s making a _mess_ , spit sliding from his mouth down Mitch’s palm toward his wrist, but that’s the _point_.

“Good,” Mitch says, and he thinks he meant to follow it with _enough_ or _boy_ or something, but that’s all that comes out. He pulls his fingers from Scott’s mouth and reaches back down for his ass. He starts with one and then adds another maybe a little too fast, but Scott doesn’t sound like he minds. Scott sounds like that’s exactly what he wanted, and he cants his hips back, arching up onto Mitch’s fingers.

It’s not a very good angle, Mitch can’t get his fingers very deep, but it’s enough to hook them at the second knuckle around Scott’s rim, curl them up and tug. Play with the ring of strong muscle Scott can’t seem to help tensing. Scott’s breathing stutters, not exactly a gasp. Mitch does it again, and Scott moans.

In answer, Mitch scrapes his teeth along the skin over Scott’s ribs, and Scott does it again.

“Oh my god, Mitchy,” Scott gasps, voice drifting down to Mitch from where Scott’s head is curled down against the cushion, holding himself braced over Mitch on one elbow. “Fuck, wait, this isn’t—”

“No, I know, it’s not working,” Mitch admits.

“Where,” Scott says, as Mitch slides out from under him. He flops over onto his side, apparently the better to give Mitch a look. It’s probably supposed to be betrayed. It just looks flushed and desperate. “Are you _going_?”

Mitch doesn’t devote any energy to responding. The answer’ll be obvious enough in a second. “Roll over,” he says, instead.

“I’m not gonna—”

“Scotty.” Mitch waits until he has Scott’s attention mostly on his face. He raises his eyebrows, and licks his lips. Then, enunciating each word carefully, “Roll. Back. Over.”

Scott gives a long, long full-bodied shudder, that turns into him flipping back over onto his belly.

Mitch gets hold of Scott’s thighs and spreads his legs, crawling between them.

“Worked it out yet?” Mitch asks, sliding his thumbs into the crack of Scott’s ass, one on either side of his hole, to hold his cheeks apart. He blows a hot breath over Scott’s hole, and Scott shudders again.

“I _love_ you,” Scott declares fervently, which means yes, he has.

Mitch shifts his grip around so he’s holding Scott open one handed. “Hang on, then,” he says, and presses back in with both fingers at once. He finds Scott’s prostate with his fingertips in time with the first pass of his tongue around Scott’s rim and his own knuckles. Scott’s whole body reacts, so Mitch does it again.

Time sort of slips away from him after that, as Mitch gets lost in licking at Scott’s hole while he works his fingers in and out, listening to Scott going steadily louder and more wordless. It’s almost a surprise when Scott comes, ass going tight around Mitch’s fingers and the sounds coming out of his mouth going high and clear and unmistakable for a moment. Mitch stills his tongue, turns his head to rest his cheek on Scott’s ass, panting a little. He hadn’t realized how winded he was, hadn’t been paying attention to his own body. But he is, out of breath and flushed all over and so hard it _aches_ a little.

“ _Mitch_ ,” Scott’s voice drifts down from above him. “God.”

Getting a grip on himself, Mitch pulls his fingers free. He deliberately ignores the sad little moan that escapes Scott when he does it, and shifts up enough to drape himself over Scott’s back. He sets his teeth in the meat of Scott’s shoulder, way up high, and digs in until he hears that noise of Scott’s—a hard exhale cut off right away—that means the pain’s right on the edge of too sharp. He eases up, just enough to not push Scott over that edge, and worries at the skin. Just carefully, gentle but firm.

The point is to _mark_ , not to hurt.

“ _Again_ , really?” Scott says, too breathless to really be a complaint.

“You look better this way,” Mitch says. He shifts his mouth over, picks a new patch of skin to worry with his teeth.

It’s not even really intentional, when he starts humping the arch of Scott’s stupid curvy spine. He’s so hard, feels like he’s been hard for _so long_ , and he hadn’t really thought past getting Scott to come on his fingers and tongue. He wants to come, he does, he’s _going_ to, he just—hasn’t decided how yet.

Thinking about it, he shifts his hips over until his cock is nestled nice and comfortable between the cheeks of Scott’s ass, giving him a better angle to thrust against.  A couple of times he even really teases, on purpose, pushing against him just enough to not breach and slip in but enough that Scott will be able to feel the pressure. It’s only fair, after the other night—Mitch has a vivid memory of the wild edge everything took on when Scott was doing it to him. And, god, no _wonder_ Scott was doing it, from this end it’s not just crazy hot anticipation, it’s a _rush_. Knowing how much the person under him wants it, getting to _see_ him unravelling a little more with every almost-not-quite push against his entrance.

“Want—in me,” Scott complains.

Mitch can't help himself, not with Scott saying that, sounding like that—He lines up on purpose and pushes just enough to breach, just _barely_ slips in. Scott feels amazing around the head of his dick, the same tight heat from around his fingers just a few minutes ago. He moans, hears Scott doing the same, and starts to push a little deeper still—There's a drag, and he remembers they have _no lube_ and, _worse_ —

Mitch groans in frustration. “No condom,” he grits out onto the skin of Scott’s back. He makes himself stop, forces himself to pull back out.

Scott lets out a pathetic little moan of denial. He tilts his hips, arching his ass back into the gentle, rocking thrusts Mitch can't help himself from keeping up. “No, why,” he whines.

Mitch licks up the sweat pooling in the valley of his spine, meaning it as an apology for the way he forces his hips still. His cock is still nestled right up in the valley of Scott’s ass, and it feels so good that he can’t keep from moving at all, but he’s stopped thrusting and he’s practically still. Mostly still. Pretty much entirely almost totally—He’s only rocking a tiny bit, okay, and half of that is Scott arching into it. Mitch is being _good_.

“You _know_ ,” he says, “you know why.”

“We should—tested,” Scott says.

The already too-fast rhythm of Mitch’s breathing stutters. “Yeah?”

“So we can forget about the condoms,” Scott adds. He twists his head, looks back at Mitch over his shoulder, and his eyes are _fierce_. “Because I don’t want ‘em anymore.”

Mitch comes. All over Scott’s back.

“Oh, god,” he gasps, after a few moments.

“Should I take that as agreement?”

“Oh, god,” Mitch says again, “ _yeah_.” He shifts over enough that he can put his hand on Scott’s back, right over where he just came. He leaves it there while he leans over and kisses Scott’s shoulder blade, gently, right over his own teeth marks.

“Let me guess,” Scott asks, slow and a little muzzy. His face is half turned into the leather sofa, and he’s smiling. “I look better like _this_ , too.”

Mitch hums, nuzzling at Scott’s shoulder blade. His fingers trail through the patch of tacky come, and down a little farther, stopping just at the small of Scott’s back and pressing for a second, before going still. “Yeah,” he says, his own voice thick, satisfied. “You do. You look like _mine_.”

“And I thought I was possessive,” Scott mumbles.

“I’m not possessive, I’m just a genius.”

“Uh huh. So, if you’re a genius, how ‘bout you tell me how the hell we’re going to clean up this couch before someone finds it?”

#

Mitch catches Scott as they’re coming off stage after their first show, drags him away backstage until he finds a corridor that seems empty.

“You can not spend all tour looking at me like that on stage,” he says, leaning up and kissing his jaw, his lips. “I cannot be responsible for my actions if you’re giving me those _eyes_ the whole time.”

“I can’t help it if I love watching you,” Scott says, beaming at him and fitting his hand to one side of Mitch’s face. “You’re amazing.” He leans back in.

It’s nothing even really heavy, just trading kisses. With every one, he feels Mitch saying _you’re here_ and _I’m here_ and _I love you and I love being here with you_ , hopes Mitch knows he’s saying it back with every kiss he returns, in the soothing sweep of his thumb over Mitch’s cheekbone. There’s a warm, happy supernova building behind Scott’s sternum, and his mouth stretches into a broad grin around the kisses.

A noise jolts them out of it, voices coming from down the hallway, getting closer.

Scott yanks his mouth away, drops Mitch’s hand, and takes one huge step back. That’s all they have time for, before a group of fans dangling VIP passes round the corner and the excited chatter gets louder as Scott and Mitch are spotted.

There’s no way to escape it. They shake hands and sign autographs and take pictures and give hugs, and Scott doesn’t take his eyes off of Mitch for more than four seconds at a stretch, not once.

Once they’ve gone, Mitch turns to Scott. “That was awful.”

Scott winces. “I know.”

“I feel like I’m back in the closet,” Mitch goes on. “We need to clear this with management.”

“Uh, this? As in—”

“This, us,” Mitch says, waving a hand between them. He runs it through his hair and takes a deep breath. “I need everyone to know.”

Scott looks at him for a second, his heart in his throat; he can feel his face doing that goopy thing it always and only ever does around Mitch. He swallows thickly, and says, “Okay. We can do that.”

“So, we’re okay with this, then? You’re okay with coming out—again?”

“If we’re getting rid of condoms,” Scott decides, catching Mitch’s hand back up in his, “we might as well get rid of closets, too. _All_ of them.”

Mitch smiles, as slow and beautiful as a sunrise. “I like that plan.”

#

**sup3rfruit**  
It's time for another superfruit Q &A! This week's theme:

 **sup3rfruit**  
Love and boyfriends! Specifically, ours. That's right, all about our boyfriends!

 **sup3rfruit**  
If we get enough likes on this tweet, we’ll even put them on camera ;)

 **scotthoyingismydad**  
@sup3rfruit omfg r u kiddin 

**twerkymcslutdrop**  
@sup3rfruit ...you’re really gonna show off your bfs??

 **sup3rfruit**  
@twerkymcslutdrop @scotthoyingismydad Yep we’re really gonna.

 **luvscruffyscott**  
HOT SKIPPY ON TOAST

#

**scomicheisveryreal**  
okay i’ll admit it i'm a little scared

 **ptxstolemyheart**  
omg i know me too

 **ptxstolemyheart**  
what if they're fugs

 **scotthoyingismydad**  
what if Scott vISIBLY HATES mitch’s bf

 **luvscruffyscott**  
Hahaha omg no get out

 **monkeysdonthavegrammys**  
holy shit but he's actually gonna isn't he

 **scomicheisveryreal**  
Scott ALWAYS hates Mitch’s bfs

 **twerkymcslutdrop**  
ya’ll have to tell how awful it is

 **scomicheisveryreal**  
@twerkymcslutdrop you're not gonna watch??

 **twerkymcslutdrop**  
@scomicheisveryreal no no i am not, are you kidding

 **twerkymcslutdrop**  
@scomicheisveryreal why would i put myself thru this?! gotta love urself gurl

 **ptxstolemyheart**  
@scomicheisveryreal @twerkymcslutdrop you know, i don't even blame her

 **luvscruffyscott**  
i don't wanna watch either

#

“My name is fennec fox,” says Scott.

“And I’m red panda,” says Mitch.

“And together we are just the gosh darn cutest thing you've ever seen.”

“And today, we are answering questions about our favorite subject—”

“Each other!” Scott cuts in, grin huge.

“—no, but really, we’re talking about our boyfriends.” Mitch finishes his sentence before he glances at Scott, then he's grinning too.

#

**twerkymcslutdrop**  
nope that's it im out, i was right, I can't do this

 **pentaobsessed12**  
his ducking face tho

 **ptxstolemyheart**  
omfg less than a min in and it's already awful. are they doing this on purpose??

 **luvscruffyscott**  
@ptxstolemyheart they're totes doing it on purpose

 **scomicheisveryreal**  
@luvscruffyscott @ptxstolemyheart why do we love these big poopooheads?

 **pentaobsessed12**  
@scomicheisveryreal @luvscruffyscott @ptxstolemyheart his ducking face, though.

 **ptxstolemyheart**  
@pentaobsessed12 ahaha ha. i hate my life choices.

 **scotthoyingismydad**  
Are you guys kidding, this is AMAZING

 **scotthoyingismydad**  
Just think how much more gloriously awful this’ll be when their bfs are on screen

 **pentaobsessed12**  
@scotthoyingismydad you’re certifiable you know that right

 **scotthoyingismydad**  
@pentaobsessed12 maybe. But also I have popcorn

#

“Our first question is, from @kirstieismyqueen, do your boyfriends ever get jealous of how close you two are?”

Mitch makes a hilariously fake thoughtful face. He doesn’t look at Scott, who’s staring at him with his mouth open, as he says, “You know what, that hasn’t been an issue.”

“Which I think is a good sign,” Scott says.

“Definitely a good sign,” Mitch agrees.

#

**pentaobsessed12**  
so, what are we thinking, blind or stupid

 **scomichieisveryreal**  
@pentaobsessed12 them or their bfs?

 **luvscruffyscott**  
@pentaobsessed @scomichieisveryreal either way the answer’s the same

 **luvscruffyscott**  
clearly its both

 **scotthoyingismydad**  
well obvs scomiche are both, its not really a stretch their bfs would have to be, too

#

“@redpandas8myhmwrk asked, whose boyfriend is better looking?”

Mitch and Scott trade glances, and at almost the exact same second, say, “Mine.”

Scott laughs, and Mitch smirks.

“No, really, I’m pretty sure it’s mine,” Mitch says, one brow arching. He gives Scott a look from the corner of his eye. “Really, really pretty sure.”

“ _My_ boyfriend is _beautiful_ ,” Scott says, staring at him outright. “You’ve said it yourself, you’re into ugly guys.”

Mitch makes a noise that isn't exactly a giggle, but isn't anything else, either. “Agree to disagree?” he asks.

Scott nods. “Oh, yeah, definitely,” he says. “You're so wrong.”

Mitch’s smirk twitches a little wider. He looks back at the the camera. “So we totally have a stalemate there. What's our next question?”

“Well, lets see.” Scott looks down at his phone. “@monkeysdonthavegrammys wants to know what your boyfriend thinks of Beyoncé,” he says. 

“That she's queen, obviously,” Mitch says.

“Well, obviously,” Scott agrees.

#

**ptxstolemyheart**  
ahaha arguing over whos bf is hotter. this hurts me. in my soul.

 **scotthoyingismydad**  
@ptxstolemyheart want some popcorn

 **ptxstolemyheart**  
@scotthoyingismydad how is popcorn going to help

 **scotthoyingismydad**  
@ptxstolemyheart it won’t, but it gives u something to crunch angrily

 **luvscruffyscott**  
@scotthoyingismydad @ptxstolemyheart can i get in on that popcorn action

#

“@mitchieismyeverything asks how long we’ve been dating our boyfriends,” Scott reads off his phone.

“Forever. Is it forever? It definitely feels like forever. Don't you think it's forever?” Mitch asks, giving Scott a really pointed look with one eyebrow up.

“ _I've_ been dating _my_ boyfriend for ten months, two weeks, three days, and eleven hours,” Scott says back, just as pointed.

“Are you sure it's not thirteen hours?”

“It's _eleven_.”

“I really thought it was—”

“Aaaand @twerkymcslutdrop wants to know if your boyfriend’s good in bed,” Scott interrupts, not even looking at his phone.

Mitch’s mouth pinches and his eyes narrow for a second. Then he shrugs it off, but doesn't bother even glancing at the camera as he says, “Oh my god, of course, yeah, he's great in bed.”

Scott laughs.

“He's better out of bed,” Mitch adds. “The other night, there was this—we were in the kitchen, and he—”

Scott goes pink. He looks away, not laughing any more.

“It's, uh. New question?” he says, sounding half-strangled.

#

**luvscruffyscott**  
@scotthoyingismydad omgggg Scott is so uncomfortable, poor baby

 **scotthoyingismydad**  
@luvscruffyscott what do you want to bet scott walked in on that

 **ptxstolemyheart**  
@luvscruffyscott @scotthoyingismydad i only just started watching and guys i'm so mad already

 **twerkymcslutdrop**  
wait what did scott walk in on?

 **luvscruffyscott**  
@twerkymcslutdrop mitch’s bf banging him in the kitchen

 **scotthoyingismydad**  
@twerkymcslutdrop just scotts worst nightmare no big

 **luvscruffyscott**  
@twerkymcslutdrop they answered your question and it was painful

 **scotthoyingismydad**  
@luvscruffyscott @twerkymcslutdrop legit painful, scott turned like bright red

 **twerkymcslutdrop**  
@scotthoyingismydad @luvscruffscott omggg knew i should’ve deleted that when i woke up the next morning plz forgive me

 **pentaobsessed12**  
@scotthoyingismydad @luvscruffyscott @twerkymcslutdrop @ptxstolemyheart if you think that's bad just you wait

 **pentaobsessed12**  
they answered my question next.

 **ptxstolemyheart**  
@pentaobsessed12 oh god no

#

“Okay, Scott, this one’s for you,” Mitch says, smirking again. He looks up at Scott through his eyelashes for a couple of beats, then drops his eyes to his phone just as Scott’s cheeks start to go the faintest pink. “@pentaobsessed12 wants to know, what do you think of my boyfriend?”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Scott replies, immediately.

Mitch lifts his eyes back to Scott’s face. “Yes, he does.”

“No,” Scott says firmly, shaking his head. “Nope, he really doesn’t.”

#

**scotthoyingismydad**  
Called it.

 **scomicheisveryreal**  
@scotthoyingismydad you say that like this makes ANYONE happy

 **mitchieismyeverything**  
Now don't all of you scomiche shippers feel silly.

 **luvscruffyscott**  
@mitchieismyeverything speaking of not making anyone happy

#

“@idonthaveacleverhandle wants to know if our boyfriends take us on double dates,” Scott reads, his lips twitching.

“Welllllll... that’d be kind of hard,” Mitch says, half laughing. His lifted hand covers his face for a second. “I mean, logistically…”

“A bit unrealistic,” Scott agrees.

“Just a bit.” Mitch catches Scott’s eyes over his hand. He clears his throat, and his eyebrows go up.

“Now?” Scott asks, too quietly to have been meant for the camera, for anyone but Mitch.

“Now,” Mitch says, and drops his hand again as Scott turns to look directly into the camera. It’s only maybe the third time Scott’s done that all video.

“Okay, so, I know you’re all wondering, where are our guests,” Scott says.

“And we did promise,” Mitch says. “We said we'd bring our boyfriends on camera.”

“Yes, we did.”

Mitch grins. He throws a good, long look at Scott, and makes a big, pointed show of grabbing his hand and dragging it into the center of the frame, twined with Mitch’s own. He turns back to the camera still smiling. “And, well. The truth is, they’re right here.”

#

**scomicheisveryreal**  
okay but where are their bfs

 **ptxstolemyheart**  
are they not there?? not even at the end?

 **luvscruffyscott**  
i thought they promised they’d show them off

 **pentaobsessed12**  
;aklsdjfa;sdlkfj;asld OMFG

 **ptxstolemyheart**  
???

 **pentaobsessed12**  
DID YOU FNISH IT HAS ANBODY ELSE FINISHED IT YET

 **luvscruffyscott**  
what? what happens?

 **pentaobsessed12**  
THER BFS ARE THERE OMFG

 **pentaobsessed12**  
SRSLF HOLY SHIT

 **scomicheisveryreal**  
hOLU FUCK I JUST FINISHED

 **luvscruffyscott**  
omg WHO IS IT

 **pentaobsessed12**  
GO WTACH IT RIGHT NOW

 **pentaobsessed12**  
ONT GONNA SPOIL THIS FOR U

 **ptxstolemyheart**  
GUYS OH MY FUCKING GOD DID THEY JUST

 **pentaobessed12**  
I KNOW

 **scomicheisveryreal**  
WHAT THE FUCK HOLY

 **scomicheisveryreal**  
I CAN’T I JUST CANT

 **luvscruffyscott**  
… what. the shit. omfg.

 **pentaobsessed12**  
I KNOW. I KNOW!!!!!!

 **luvscruffyscott**  
theyre not joking right omg please don’t let them be jocking

 **ptxstolemyheart**  
THE WORLD IS A BEAUTIFUL PLACE.

 **luvscruffyscott**  
@mitchieismyeverything SUCK ON THAT

 **mitchieismyeverything**  
This user has disabled their account.

 **scomicheisveryreal**  
@twerkymcslutdrop @monkeysdonthavegrammys WHERE ARE YOU

 **scomicheisveryreal**  
@twerkymcslutdrop @monkeysdonthavegrammys WATCH SF

 **pentaobsessed12**  
@scomicheisveryreal @twerkymcslutdrop @monkeysdonthavegrammys DO IT IMMEDIATELY TRUST ME

 **twerkymcslutdrop**  
so this is how I die.

#

“I want to do something for you,” says Scott.

“I can do something for you, too,” Mitch says, kind of coy, tossing his head. He reaches for Scott’s erection.

“No, just, lie back,” Scott says, giving Mitch a smile that goes soft somewhere between intention and execution. “Let me.”

He doesn’t rush getting Mitch out of his clothes, but once he gets his mouth on Mitch’s dick he _goes for it_. Take-no-prisoners right down to business, gets as much of Mitch in his mouth as he can, sucks tight and hard.

He slows down a little after Mitch comes, lets Mitch recover a bit, but he doesn’t stop. He’s not done with Mitch yet. Focuses on his mouth on Mitch’s skin, sucks an agonizingly slow hickey into the skin over Mitch’s hipbones, while he pets Mitch’s soft inner thighs with his huge warm hands. Mitch’s legs fall open a little wider at the touch, and Scott figures that’s as good as an invitation.

He reaches up, under the pillow by Mitch’s head, for the lube he put there earlier. Scott keeps his mouth on Mitch’s hip while he pops open the lube and slicks up his fingers, distracts Mitch from where his hands have gone so Scott can focus on what he’s about to do.

He shifts back over and takes the head of Mitch’s cock into his mouth again, as he puts his wet hand between Mitch’s legs and presses it against his hole. Mitch barely seems to react when he slides the first one in. Scott would almost think he doesn’t notice, except he moans _“Scott_ ,” and his hands reach under his legs to grab his knees and hold himself wide.

Scott pushes in another finger, and takes Mitch’s cock in deeper, takes him all the way. One of Mitch’s hands leaves his knee, brushes through Scott’s hair for just a second—but he must decide that’s a bad idea, because before Scott even gets a chance to react, Mitch drops it to the bed and twists his fingers in the sheets. Scott kind of would have liked Mitch to keep touching him for a _little_ while longer, so he sucks a little harder and adds a third finger all at once as revenge. Mitch arches his spine into it, lets out a lovely little moan. Scott hums, smug, and keeps going.

This time when Mitch comes, he shakes and clenches up all over with it, one big tense knot for a minute, centered on Scott’s fingers in his ass, pressed up tight against his prostate. His whole body goes lax by inches, after, relaxing into the bed all the way to his bones.

Scott is smug, but also at this point _insanely_ horny. He withdraws his fingers, gets his knees under him and sits back on his heels, reaches for his heavy, aching cock and starts to jerk himself off. Mitch kicks out with one foot, catches Scott in the hip with his heel, stopping him.

“What?” says Scott, gritting his teeth. He has to let go of himself, can’t think with even the touch of his own fingers on his dick right now. “What, babe? What is it?”

“Don’t you dare,” Mitch says. His consonants are a little looser, vowels not quite as crisp as usual, but it’s still recognizably an order.

Scott almost flat out whines. “Why not,” he says, instead.

“Fuck me,” he says. His eyes roll, a little; Scott can’t tell if it’s deliberate. “Obviously.”

“But, it’s not like you can—again,” Scott tries, not moving because if he moves he’s not actually sure what he’ll do. “And you’re probably _so_ sensiti—”

“Go on, fuck me anyway,” Mitch says. His voice is _gone_ , too, a little blurry, his vowels all loose. He drapes his arms over Scott’s shoulders, crosses them behind his neck. “I want you to.”

Scott slides in, slow, so he can savor the way it feels to be entering Mitch with nothing between them.

Mitch doesn’t tense up at the intrusion, doesn’t even push up into it. He barely moves, except his eyes fluttering closed and his head rolling back on the pillows, neck stretching out, as he moans out the lowest, filthiest, most devastating sound Scott’s ever even _imagined_.

Scott can barely control himself, has to actually struggle to stay in something resembling a rhythm and not just pound away at Mitch as hard and fast as he can. Fucking hell, Mitch is so beautiful and so boneless and _so wrecked_. Scott catches himself all the time thinking that Mitch is beautiful, the most gorgeous person he’s ever seen, but he’s pretty sure this time—in this moment—it’s the truth. Actual, scientific fact that there’s never been anyone better looking.

Scott feels _destroyed_. Knowing he did that, with his _mouth_ ; knowing Mitch is gonna think of it every time he hears Scott’s voice for, like, the next two days. Knowing they have a show tomorrow night and _everyone_ is gonna hear the faint rasp and they’ll all know what Scott was doing, to whom. Because everyone _knows_ , now. The entire internet knows, and surely everybody else besides that by now, too. They told the whole world, after all.

 _Everyone_ will know.

Scott is possessive, he knows that about himself, knows he can be a bit of a bastard. For all Mitch has spent the past several months putting teeth and nails in his skin to mark him, he still isn’t used to liking the idea of being _possessed_ , for itself rather than how much _Mitch_ likes it. But it is, it’s _incinerating—_ it blows him away, how much that turns him on. He never realized that anything could be as hot as this. He feels like it’ll catch him on fire, send him up in flames. Mitch’s flames, burning for him.

When Scott comes, it’s obliterating. He completely loses the plot. When he has enough control of his body back to do it without hurting anybody, he drops his forehead on Mitch’s, saying his name over and over without really meaning to. It’s the only thought he can hold onto in his head. Mitch just keeps making these languid, fucked-out little whimpering noises.

“Have I told you lately,” Scott starts.

“Yes,” Mitch says, “you have.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” Scott accuses, finally managing to prop himself up a little, pull out. He doesn’t let himself think about how he just came _in Mitch_ , how wet he’s left him. Mitch can’t take anymore, right now.

Mitch cracks an eye open, somehow manages to look bossy while squinting and boneless. “Doesn’t matter.”

“No?”

“Pretty sure you just told me _everything_.”

There’s nothing Scott can say to that but kiss him in agreement.


End file.
